


To Ease the Dying, To Comfort the Bereaved

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Real Person FICTION - That Last is Important [16]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Child Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Obsession, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young fan lies dying, Matt becomes obsessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amie33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/gifts), [Kehwie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kehwie/gifts), [clare009](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare009/gifts), [csiwholocked33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csiwholocked33/gifts), [areyoumarriedriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts), [Friday (BrinneyFriday)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Friday+%28BrinneyFriday%29).



> This is all fiction, all of it. There have been (to the best of my knowledge) no dying child, and no altercation with the BBC.

Matt Smith had gotten his fair share of odd fan mail since becoming the eleventh Doctor. He’d gotten everything from hate mail because he wasn’t Tennant to a number of notes that were quite the opposite, to the point of making him blush.

But _this_.

This was heartbreaking.

A little girl, Alice Gibbons, eight years old, dying of some disease Matt couldn’t even pronounce. All she wanted was to meet the Doctor. _Her_ Doctor, the letter said in tipsy capital letters. She assured him that she knew he was make-believe, that the Doctor was a role - like in the play they had done when she had been able to go to school - and she asked him to come in costume so she could pretend along with him.

“I have to see her, Steven,” he said with a certain urgency. “I’ve checked it out and it’s legitimate and...” he trailed off as Steven held up one hand.

“I’ll see what I can do, Matt. Thanks for asking though, instead of just rushing to the child’s bedside.” He looked kindly at the younger man. “You okay?”

Matt shoved a hand through his hair, flushing as he remembered the last time he had gone as the Doctor somewhere without the BBC’s permission. It had gotten heated, and there had been quite a lot of shouting, and he didn’t really want to repeat the experience. Hence his visit to Steven’s office. “I... don’t know,” he admitted. “She’s just a _kid_ , Moff, just a little kid.”

Steven nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said again, and smiled tiredly at Matt.

He could do quite a lot, when he put his mind to it.

\--/-- 

“Mum, it’s _time_ ,” squealed Salome, and Alex smiled indulgently at her. Her sweet daughter, so excited to watch the _Children in Need_ special. It was nice that Florian saw anything on the BBC - except the news - as Alex’s special province, that time she shared with Salome herself, with no interference from him. He always had; he was a good father. And he had been a good husband for a time. They just wanted different things now. Alex gave herself a mental shake; time to focus on Salome and the special.

And Matt. Focussing on Matt was a secret pleasure for Alex, had been for years.

He’d been quite secretive about this year’s special, and she supposed it was payback for all those spoilers she’d refused to tell him about River Song over the years. But he hadn’t called or texted, not like he usually did to crow about what mad, brilliant thing Steven had dreamt up. Not for weeks.

Silly man.

So she sat down on the couch next to her daughter, and flipped on BBC America. They made a tradition of this, she and Salome, sitting snuggled together to watch _Who_ or _Sarah Jane_. Salome bounced through the opening titles and then settled against her side.

They watched as Matt manipulated the prop controls on the TARDIS, and shouted to his new companion that she would be fine, just a little turbulence, no problem really. Then the transmat effect snatched him out of the TARDIS set and into what looked like a hospital room, a pale, thin child in the bed. Well, maybe not a hospital room; there weren’t the usual cold and sterile-looking accoutrements, but...

“Oh, Mum,” Salome whispered. “The little girl is _really_ sick, isn’t she?” She cuddled closer, under Alex’s protectively curled arm as she watched. Alex was watching too, with a kind of sick dread, but she was too intent on the look in Matt’s eyes to even hear the dialogue. He was a good actor, true, and he did that ancient-sad-eyes-in-a-baby-face better than anyone, but she knew him too well.

He wasn’t acting. This little girl really did make him that sad.

Alex’s attention snapped back to the dialogue as she heard the little girl laugh, and say, “Not the TARDIS, Doctor, your _other_ wife. River Song.”

It was then - as he hesitated for just a moment before assuring the little girl that he would see what he could do about that - that Alex realised Matt _was_ acting. Acting, throwing himself into his role of the benevolent (to children) Doctor, was all that was holding Matt together just now.

And it broke her heart.

The little girl - _Alice_ , she heard Matt call her - Alice was heartbreaking enough. A little girl, and had they said she was only eight years old? Terminal, not likely to get any older, and it made Alex want to weep. But seeing _Matt_ with her, how sweet he was with her, while Alex’s own young daughter sat sniffling here? Alex wasn’t sure she could bear it.

“You should go,” Salome said with very adult-sounding tears in her voice, and nodded, wet eyes brushing the skin of her mother’s arm. “You should go help Matty take care of that little girl.” And then she burst into tears and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.

\--/--

“Matt, you have got to take a break.” Steven was exasperated, and more, he was worried about his star. But Matt remained stubbornly - if quietly - adamant.

“She has weeks to live, Steven,” he’d said with uncharacteristic solemnity, “Maybe days. And she wants me there with her. It’s all I can do, and as long as I show up for work and do my job, it’s not your call.”

Steven had tried reason. (“You’ll make yourself sick, and how will that do the little mite any good?”) He had tried compassion. (“Look Matt, I’m a dad, yeah? I do understand what it must be like.”) He had even tried humour. (“All right, but I’m taking the cost for the extra makeup they have to put on you out of your pay.”)

He’d tried everything, hell, he’d even threatened to _fire_ Matt, stage a surprise regeneration.

None of it worked.

And none of them - not Steven or Arthur or Matt’s family or anyone on _Who_ \- realised just how close Matt was to a breaking point until the day Alex came to visit.

\--/--

“Steven,” Alex nearly hissed, “Why the hell didn’t you phone me? I would’ve come days ago.”

Steven ran a hand over his curly hair. “And tell you exactly what? That your pretend alien husband is obsessed enough to rival the Doctor?” He sighed wearily and Alex softened.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” she said. “You did a Children in Need two weeks ago, and Matt’s been hanging about with the child in question ever since? Doesn’t she have parents? Don’t they object to his... obsession?”

Steven gave her a tired smile. “Look, Alex, you and I are parents, we know how hard something like this can be. But we've got between us the number of kids Alice’s dad’s got all on his own. He’s got four besides her, and she’s the oldest at only eight, and their mother died when the two youngest - twins - were born. He does the best he can, but he’s _grateful_ to Matt for being there.” He sighed, heavily, and Alex smiled at him. “Matt came to me with Alice’s fan letter,” he said softly. “So we did the C.I.N. special on her, and now he doesn’t seem _able_ to stop himself from hanging on her every breath. I’ve done all I can to keep him safe - got him a driver for the duration so he’s not behind the wheel all sleep deprived - but he _is_ an adult.”

“Right then,” Alex said, standing up and briskly clapping her hands together. “Time for me to get to Costume.” Steven just looked at her, clearly wary that another of his _Who_ stars was going off her rocker, and she smiled. “You heard the little girl, Steven. She wants to meet River Song. Let’s see if I can’t take some of that burden from Matt.”

“If he’ll let you,” Steven said soberly.

\--/--

“Hello, Sweetie.”

Matt froze, even as Alice clapped her hands with delight. “Oh, Doctor Matt, you got her to come!” Her pale little face lit up, and she beamed at Alex, lounging in the doorway. _Oh the sweet dear thing,_ thought Alex sadly, even as she poured the emotion into her role. Wouldn’t do to break down now. But Alice was still chattering away. “Did he send you a note on psychic paper? I mean, _pretend_ psychic paper,” she corrected herself, clearly obeying some rule she’d heard over and over.

Alex shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said, sorrowfully, as she crossed into the brightly-painted room. “He didn’t even send me _one_ note on psychic paper in the past several weeks. Must be timey wimey.” She reached the bed, leant down to brush Matt’s ear with a light kiss, and leant further to kiss Alice on the cheek. “Hello, darling Alice,” she said. “I’m very glad to meet you.” She straightened and turned to smile at Matt. “And you, my love,” she said softly, and he started.

“You’re here,” he breathed, then took a deep breath and turned to Alice. “I never know when to expect her, you see. Timey wimey is right.” He glanced over at Alex and grinned at her, but it was patently fake. _The smile doesn’t show in his eyes,_ she thought. _His eyes are desolate, lost. Oh, my poor Matt.._. She opened her mouth to make some River-ish remark but was interrupted by a knock on the door frame.

A man stood there, holding his cap in his hands and wringing it, looking terribly nervous. “Hello,” Alex said in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could manage around the lump in her throat, and she held out a hand, walking across the room to him. “I’m Alex, and you must be Alice’s dad. Mr Gibbons.”

“She’s the Doctor’s wife, daddy, and she came to see me!” _If it weren’t for the pale face and the air of general fragility_ , thought Alex, _you’d never know she was sick_. She shook the man’s hand firmly and drew him over to the bedside, nudging Matt gently until he got the hint and stood up, offering Alice’s dad his chair. Alex listened and watched as the three of them discussed how the day had gone, how Matt had gotten here an hour ago, and brought his wife just now. She smiled at them and spoke up.

“If you’re ready, Sweetie, we can go home now.” She held out a hand to Matt and leant down to kiss Alice again. “Mind if I steal him away for tonight, Alice? I’ll bring him back,” she whispered into the child’s hair, and Alice giggled.

“Yeah, daddy’s here now. And Mrs Jones is coming later, right, daddy?” Her father blushed and smiled at her, told her that yes, Mrs Jones would bring the other kids. She beamed at him, and then Alex saw that the little girl _was_ sick; she fell limply back into the pillows and just lay there for a bit, looking even paler and more fragile than before. Alex decided she’d wait to drag Matt off for some rest until Alice had gained enough energy to properly say goodnight, and she made desultory conversation with the girl’s father until Alice recovered herself. She found out the names of the other four children, and that Mrs Jones was the widowed neighbour who watched the children while he was here at the hospice (and she thought with an inward smile that perhaps she detected something a bit more intimate than gratitude in the man’s voice when he talked of Mrs Jones).

Eventually Alice recovered herself enough to say goodnight to ‘Doctor Matt’ and ‘Professor Alex’, and Alex kissed the little girl again before she tucked her hand firmly into the crook of Matt’s elbow and led him out of the room. He was uncharacteristically silent as he trudged alongside her; he had been for the hours Alex had been there, and when she looked up at him she didn’t see the usual friendly, flirty look in his eyes. Not even the sad and haunted look she’d seen earlier, just a numb, blank stare, and her heart ached for him.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly as they got into the car. The driver Steven had hired pulled smoothly away from the pavement toward the block of flats where they lived while filming. Matt did nothing but fasten his seatbelt. He stared blankly out the window and Alex repeated, “ _Matt_. Are you all right?”

Matt muttered something that might have been “I’m always all right,” but he didn’t turn to look at her or otherwise acknowledge her presence. _Not good,_ Alex thought, _he’s unfailingly polite and flirty, even when he’s down. If he can’t even_ look _at me._.. She thought about saying something but the lump in her throat was back, bigger than ever, so she wordlessly put one hand on his knee.

He clutched at it desperately, hard enough to bruise, but he still didn’t look at her. And there they sat in silence until they reached the block of flats.

\--/--

Matt nearly cried when Alex put a soft, small hand on his knee. She didn’t fuss, just sat in silent sympathy, and right now that was what he needed, someone who would support without fussing at him. He hadn’t been home to his parents or seen Lor in the fortnight since he’d met little Alice, because he just wanted to be left _alone_. Left alone to do his job and look after this sweet little girl who looked up at him like some kind of hero.

So he held Alex’s hand, and he knew his grip was too tight but he didn’t seem able to help himself; she was _here_ , and she didn’t protest, and that was all that mattered. He had no idea why little Alice had affected him so; she was a sweet kid, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Except that she was dying.

Eight years old, and dying. Matt couldn’t even fathom it, and it occupied his every thought, except when he was working. That was why he couldn’t sleep; her tiny, pale face haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He knew he was doing some of the best work of his life, channelling all that despair into the Doctor. His character was the despairing sort anyway; it wasn’t hard to do. But he didn’t _care_ , couldn’t find it in the numbness inside him to care.

Right now Matt was numbly letting Alex look after him, too tired to care about _that_ either, when just weeks ago he’d have done anything to have her attention like this. He hadn’t the energy to care. He followed her quietly out of the car, through the vestibule, up the lift, to his front door, and just looked at her dumbly as she waited. “The key, Matt,” she said patiently, “Unless you want to come to mine?” He didn’t move for a moment, then fished his keys out of a pocket and handed them to her. “Thank you, darling,” she said gently, and unlocked his door. “Oh, sweetie,” she sighed as she took in the state his flat was in. “Come on, let’s sit down.” She tugged him into the little sitting room, but there was no clear space, so he followed her into the bedroom and sat obediently on the bed. It was pristine, unlike everything else in the flat, giving mute evidence to the fact that Matt hadn’t been sleeping. He just sat down, compliant as a child, while she helped him off with the Doctor’s tweed jacket and bow tie and boots.

“Kingston,” he said, rousing a bit as she began to putter around his room, tidying this and dusting that. “You needn’t... why are you here, anyway?” She froze for a moment, then turned to look at him, and he finally noticed the tears in her eyes. Shit, he thought, he hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful and belligerent.

“I wanted to help.” Alex’s voice was soft, and it broke on the last word. “I just... I wanted to help little Alice, help _you_ , sweetie.” Her voice was louder now, still cracking every few words, and Matt realised that she was hurting too. And she’d called him _sweetie_ , twice, even after they left the hospice and she didn’t have to playact for Alice, and she just wasn’t acting like her _self_... but she hardly knew Alice, so why...?

And then he understood. All at once, he understood that it wasn’t only _Alice_ for her. It was Alice, and Alice’s father, and Salome and Florian, and _him_ , Matt. Alex was hurting because _he_ was hurting, and she felt the same helplessness about him as he did about Alice.

Hurting Alex, even by accident, was too much for him, and Matt felt crushing guilt alongside the anger and despair and grief. He just couldn’t help himself anymore, it had all been too much, the whole bloody two weeks, and he felt his eyes fill with tears and the constant lump in his throat got even bigger, and he finally buried his face in his hands and wept.

\--/--

 _Oh god_ , thought Alex, as she watched Matt’s lower lip begin to quiver and he buried his face in shaking hands. _Oh, my poor Matt_. She didn’t think, she just sank down beside him and held on as tight as she could. “That’s it, sweetie, let it out. You’re okay, hush now...” She crooned the words over and over, held him and rocked him as he cried in great, wracking sobs. She rubbed his back and murmured into his hair and cried more than a few quiet tears of her own.

Finally, what seemed like days later but was probably less than an hour, Matt wound down to quiet breathing with the occasional hiccough, and Alex loosened her grip on him, letting him decide whether to pull away. He didn’t, or not much; he turned them both so he could look into her face. “I’m sorry,” he said, in a voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper, but she shook her head.

“No need.” She smiled at him, and was rewarded by a smile in return. It was somewhat shaky and forlorn, but it was miles improved from the ghastly grin he had given her in Alice’s room.

“But I hurt you...” he whispered, and she shook her head again. “I saw your face, Alex,” he insisted. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry. I...”

He looked as though he might cry again, and Alex reached up to thumb a lingering tear away. “You didn’t, Matt. You wouldn’t. I’m just sad about the whole thing. Come here.” She held out her arms and when he went into them, laid them both gently down across the bed, toeing off her shoes. “There now,” she said, “Get some sleep. I think that’s half the problem, sweetie; you haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” At his head shake she smoothed his hair back and kissed him on the forehead. “Shhh...”

“I can’t,” he said, even as his eyelids began, finally, to droop. “I close my eyes and I see her... I... Alex, I just want to help her and there’s nothing I can do...” He began to drift toward sleep, and Alex smiled into his hair.

“Oh, my sweet Matt,” she murmured, “You _are_ helping her; you’re helping make her last days happy ones.” She kissed his forehead again, and snuggled into him, yawning. It had been a hard day, and a long one. “She fancies you a bit, you know... like someone else I could name...”

Then they both slept.

 

 


	2. Two

When Alex woke, it took a few moments to remember where she was. The first clue was a warm male arm wrapped round her waist, and then she turned over and saw Matt’s tear-streaked face. He was still sound asleep, and it looked like he hadn’t moved except to pull her closer in his sleep, so she eased out from under the arm and tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

She checked her mobile. Half four in the morning local time, so she made a call. “Mum!” _Oh_ , it was good to hear Salome’s voice. They chatted for an hour, and then Alex, revitalised, began to clean Matt’s flat. _Ugh_ , she thought, _between jet lag and all the emotional trauma of yesterday, I may not sleep properly for a week._ But she kept doggedly on until seven, then rang Steven.

“I’m phoning Matt in sick, Steven,” she said in her don’t-argue-with-me tone, but it wasn’t needed.

“God, Alex, I’m just glad you got him to sleep. Make him take all the time _you_ think he needs, yeah? I don’t think he’s a good judge of his own strength just now.” The relief in Steven’s voice was palpable, and Alex realised how very worried he’d been. “We’ve been over to visit Alice twice, and we’ve tried to make Matt eat, and there was Dafydd - the driver, you know? But Matt just would _not_ stop; he just kept on and on, working and visiting Alice and learning lines and God knows when he’s slept. Or eaten. Sue’s beside herself, and we--”

“--Steven,” Alex interrupted and he came to an abrupt halt. “Now _you’re_ babbling. Take a day yourself, why don’t you?”

“Think I will,” Steven said, yawning. “‘Scuse me. Alex...”

“Yes?”

“You’re good for him. Don’t let him push you away. He needs your help.”

“I know,” she said quietly, and ended the call.

She intended to let Matt sleep himself out, though if he wasn’t awake by four she’d wake him to go see Alice. In the meantime, Alex felt that Matt was too thin, he’d lost weight, and Steven had mentioned - twice - that Matt had not been eating regularly.

So Alex put on an apron, and got to work.

\--/-- 

Matt woke, and lay there for a moment with his eyes shut, marvelling that he had slept. That he had _made it to his bed_ and slept, because for the past fortnight he’d been sleeping slumped in a chair - when he slept at all - more often than not, because Alice...

 _Oh, Alice_.

Matt opened his eyes. The light was all wrong; the sunlight through the blinds looked like afternoon, but it couldn’t be. Shit, he’d told Steven he’d be there every day even while helping with Alice and... “Hello, sweetie,” said River Song, distracting him. _No_ , Matt thought, _not River. Alex. But how... oh right, she brought me home._

_She had been crying..._

“Oh god, Alex, I’m sorry.”

“And I told you that you needn’t be sorry. Not on my account, not for this.” Alex smiled at him and held out a steaming cup. “You also needn’t worry about the time; I cleared it with Steven.” She shook her head at him as he tried to apologise again. “Stop it!” she nearly shouted, startling them both, and then continued in a calmer tone of  voice. “Matt. Don’t you know how worried we’ve all been about you?” He watched her eyes fill, and he made a soft noise in his throat, carefully put down the tea, and gathered her into his arms.

“But I _am_ sorry, Alex,” he murmured into her hair. “For worrying all of you, for... well. But I couldn’t help it. She’s...” His voice cracked and Alex felt a tear filter through her curls onto her scalp. She slid her arms around Matt’s waist and raised her head to look at him.

Matt didn’t stop to think. She was _beautiful_ , for all she looked so tired and worried, but most of all she was _Alex_ , and he bent his head and kissed her. Then he wasn’t _able_ to think; she was soft and sweet and _there_ in his arms, and the emotion of the past two weeks and the affection and flirting of their friendship, and the fact that she had come _all that way_ just to look after him... it all crashed down on him, and he moaned her name as he took her mouth with his.

 _Oh_ , and she was kissing him back, all tongue and teeth and lips, and Matt wanted nothing more than to stay there forever. To forget the real world and death and grief, and to lose himself in Alex. Sweet and warm and soft and _oh god,_ she was stroking his tongue with hers and sighing into his mouth, and he groaned and pulled her closer.

“ _Matt_.” It was a strangled gasp, and he tore himself away.

“Oh, god, Alex, I’m--”

“If you apologise for kissing me,” Alex interrupted, in a low and furious tone, “I shall be very cross with you. Don’t apologise for what I’ve wanted for ages, Matt. Don’t you dare.” She had tears in her eyes again, and they looked angry this time, and Matt felt utterly, completely helpless against them.

“You...” He knew he looked foolish, staring at her,  but he didn’t care. _She wanted me to kiss her. For ages? But..._

“Yes, me,” Alex said, looking horribly embarrassed and more than a little unsure, “But, well... it didn’t seem likely, did it? The age difference and the distance and all that. But... if you really do want...” She flapped one hand at her face to cool the burning blushes, then softened. “And now is not the time to deal with this one way or the other,” she said softly, regretfully. “Right now you need to heal, sweetie. Come on.” She took his hand and tugged gently until, bemused, he followed her to his little kitchen and sat at his table. He looked around.

“My god, Alex, what have you been doing?” There was food everywhere, not just the tea that was all he thought she’d made. A pie, a cake, a roast, some biscuits, fresh bread... it was like a small restaurant in here.

“You haven’t been eating any more than you’ve been sleeping, Steven tells me,” said Alex in a soft but slightly scolding tone. “And when I’m tired and sad, I bake. I phoned out to Tesco, asked them nicely to deliver the ingredients...” She shook her head at him. “I hope you haven’t been eating what was in your cupboards; half of it’d gone off.”

“I know,” Matt heard himself say sheepishly. “But I hadn’t the energy to get takeaway and...”

“And no real appetite either, I suppose,” Alex said sympathetically. “Well, now you’ve plenty of food because of my own coping mechanisms. Why don’t we eat, and then it’ll be late enough to visit Alice, and then you, my lovely co-star, will have another good night’s sleep. Yes?”

“Will you stay?” He knew he sounded stupid, needy, but at this point the prospect of spending a night alone in his flat made him want to cry again. And he did need her, so much, the sheer relief of someone else looking after him for just a bit, he _craved_ it. But she was talking, smiling at him.

“Of course I will, sweetie. As long as you need me.”

“What?” Matt said in an attempt at a joke, “No ‘only one psychopath at a time’ rule?”

Alex smiled. “I can’t speak for you, darling, but _I’m_ not a psychopath. Let’s eat.”

\--/-- 

 _Oh god, he kissed me and I let him and what I_ said _, he must think..._ no, she mustn’t think about that now; she hadn’t done anything wrong, he wasn’t looking at her with revulsion or anything, so he must be okay with this.

Okay with the idea of wanting her. God. He _wanted_ her. Apparently as much as she wanted him.

Assuming it wasn’t just gratitude for the night before.

 _Oh, stop it,_ she told herself severely as they got into costume to go and visit Alice. It would do them no good at all for her to second-guess her every move and speech and _thought_ , for god’s sake. _Just roll with it, see what happens_.

When they entered Alice’s room, Alex kept a close watch on both the little girl and Matt. He was bearing up; eighteen hours of sleep and a good meal (and a good cry and a _fantastic_ snog) seemed to have done him good. He was still sad of course, and it was obvious to anyone who knew him well, but he no longer looked terrifyingly blank and numb and empty.

But Alice was much worse today; she would smile and talk, but mostly she just laid there limply against her pillows. _Oh, the poor baby_ , Alex thought, and raised her eyes to look at the girl’s father, and a kindly-looking woman standing near the bed. Must be Mrs Jones. The woman met her gaze, sadly but evenly, and quietly walked toward her, holding out one hand. “Hello,” she said in a hushed tone. “I’m Mair Jones, their neighbour. And you’re...” She looked a bit overawed, but Alex had seen this before. Best to be casually friendly.

Alex smiled at her and shook her hand. “Mrs Jones. I’m Alex Kingston. How’s your girl today?”

“Oh, she’s not mine,” said Mrs Jones in a longing sort of voice that belied the statement. _Oh_ , thought Alex, _thank goodness she loves them. It’s not just Mr Gibbons’ fancy then_. “But she’s not doing so well today,” the woman was saying sadly.. “I don’t think...” She trailed off and shook her head, and Alex smiled at her again.

“Well then,” said Alex, “I guess it’s time for Matt and me to step into our roles and carry the show. Matt,” She beckoned Matt from where he was talking with Alice’s dad. “You ready, darling?” He nodded and bent down to whisper in Alice’s ear. She perked up a bit and whispered back.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Are you sure? We don’t have Amy and Rory, and who's going to play the Silents?” Alice just looked up at him from her pillows, with those big eyes in her pale, thin face, and he sighed. “All right then. Alex, let’s take it from ‘You wanna watch that, me when I’m confident’. Ready?”

Alex couldn’t help it; she smirked at him and produced from her purse the laser pistol she’d liberated from the props room when she’d got her costume. He gave her a disapproving look, and then they acted out the scene, and by the end of it, little Alice’s eyes were sparkling and she was giggling quietly to herself. The giggle was weak and breathless, and the sparkle was dimmer than the day before, but they were _there_ , and Alex considered that a good day’s work.

\--/--

“Alex,” said Matt hesitantly a few hours later, across his table. Alex smiled at him with an inquiring look on her face. “I...” He was momentarily at a loss for words, and she put a hand out to squeeze his gently. “Thank you... for all of it. Everything. You don’t have to stay; I can handle it tonight I think. But I hope you will.”

“Even without lovemaking?” Alex’s voice was calm, and her face. _But her eyes_ , Matt thought, _they’re both hopeful and sad. As though she’s steeling herself for rejection. Well. That’s not going to happen_.

“Yes. No. Even without. I... It wouldn’t...” Matt struggled to express himself without the risk of hurting her. _Oh, bugger it,_ he thought. _Just tell her_. “I want you, Alex. I have for...” He waved his arms. “For _years_. Since we met. But just now... it doesn’t seem right, and I know it’s stupid, it’s not like our personal lives would affect Alice’s health in any way, but...” He ducked his head and looked up at her through his hair, hoping Alex’d finish the thought for him, as she so often did.

“Because you wouldn’t want a first time - _our_ first time - to be tainted by grief and despair.” Her voice was soft, gentle, and Matt relaxed as it stroked like velvet across his frayed nerves. He nodded. That was exactly it. “I feel the same way, sweetie,” she was saying, and she reached across the table with her other hand, to hold both of his in hers, pulling him to his feet. “Come on. You’re half asleep.” He resisted.

“Let’s watch some telly first. I feel like just... _quiet_ , at home, with you.” Matt tugged Alex into the sitting room, picked up the remote and pushed her gently down onto the sofa. He sat down beside her and leaned over to rest his head in her lap. “Ah look, our signature scene,” he said as the picture came on to show River Song and the Doctor, back to back, flirting and fighting the Silence and snarking at each other about hanging cabinets. “You know,” Matt said sleepily, “I always felt that River misunderstood the Doctor’s actions in this scene. I figured he was using the sonic to keep the Silents from getting up a full charge, so River could shoot them without getting zapped. But she...” he yawned, hugely. “She just kept on about cabinets.” Alex’s fingers were in his hair, rubbing his temples gently, and he was very nearly asleep when he heard her quiet voice.

“It’s how she protects herself from the pain of losing him.” Matt opened his eyes and looked up at her. She was looking in the direction of the television screen, but her eyes were unfocussed and sheened with tears. Matt made a low noise in his throat, and she must have heard it, because she looked down at him and one of the tears overflowed and plopped onto his forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Alex said. “Emotions running high for all of us, I suppose. We’d better not watch that scene in Stormcage just now, unless you want me to curl up in a sobbing heap.”

Matt reached up and caught the other tear before it fell, then sat up and put one arm around Alex. “Can I tell you what I think must have happened?” he asked, and she nodded. He turned the volume down on the television and wrapped both long arms around her. “I like to think that he went back there, back to that time, that night at Stormcage. Maybe after Demon’s Run, maybe after Idris, barely missed meeting himself. Made wild, passionate love to River to prove to her that it’s _not_ the last time. What do you think?”

“I think that’s lovely.”

\--/-- 

Little Alice Gibbons died that night.

It had been quiet and easy, the hospice nurse said; just one last breath, and she had smiled at her father, and died.

Mr Gibbons had asked them to call Matt and let him know, as he had been more or less a favourite uncle to Alice. And then Mr Gibbons had quietly sent that nice Mrs Jones to care for his other children, and had himself stayed by Alice’s bedside, talking to her until they had to prepare the body for burial.

Matt thanked the nurse politely, and it was clear to Alex that he was using every last ounce of acting skill he had to keep the pain out of his voice. So she watched as he quietly ended the call, and without changing expression, violently hurled his mobile across the room and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Alex whispered, and he looked up, dragging his hands through his hair and looking suddenly old. He gave a mirthless bark of laughter.

“You should see your face, Alex.” His tone was somehow bitter and affectionate at the same time. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to go all Doctor on you again. No refusing to eat or sleep, no making you look after everything while I break down.” He looked down again, noticed that his hands were shaking. “Or not much. I just... I need a minute.”

“Take as much time as you need.” _Oh, my poor sweet Matt, please let me help._ Alex watched as he collected himself. He was far worse off than he had been yesterday, but not so bad as the day before. And the rage and grief he obviously felt meant that he was no longer numb. He _hurt_ , and that hurt Alex, but she could bear it.

And so could he, now.

“I have to phone Steven,” Matt said abruptly, and moved as if to hunt for his phone. Alex pulled hers out and handed it to him. “I won’t throw it,” he said, and smiled, a wavering and sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“I didn’t really think you would, Matt,” she assured him. “Though that’s not my primary concern just now.” She put a hand on his. “Call Steven.”

\--/--

The funeral was simple, sad, and packed to the rafters of the chapel. Matt felt bad about that; he knew that Alice hadn’t known all these people, but none of them had counted on the paps getting hold of the story. But he had a short talk with the rector, and with Mr Gibbons (“for God’s sake, Matt, after what we’ve been through together, call me Glyn,” he’d said), and they decided that as long as the press behaved, they’d let them stay.

But afterward, there was a small and private reception, just Alice’s family and their closest friends and neighbours, and Matt and Alex and Steven and Sue. And Dafydd, the driver, who had gotten a profuse apology from Matt as soon as he realised how he had completely ignored the man over the course of the fortnight that Daf had been driving him all over Cardiff. The guests sat in sad little bunches, even the youngest children were subdued, but Alex could see tiny little sparks of happiness scattered throughout. Alice’s death after the Children in Need special had caused _good_ press for once, and a fund for ill children was being set up in her name, with a huge contribution from Matt to seed it. There were mentions of an additional telethon and matching donations from the BBC. Dafydd was now a full time employee of the studio, which meant he could stay near his parents and his fiancé instead of following the work all over Britain. And Mrs Jones...

“That’s a good man you have there, Miss Kingston,” she said, pointing with her chin toward where Matt was standing with Glyn and the parish priest.

“Mair, I’ve asked you to call me Alex. Yes, he is,” replied Alex, “A better man than I’d given him credit for.” She smiled at the younger woman. “Yours is quite nice too.” She shook her head as Mair started to protest. “Stop it. He loves you, Mair, it’s not just gratitude for all you’ve done for him and his. He might not be quite aware of it yet, though. Give him time.”

“Do you really think he... sees me?” She was near tears, Alex realised. All this time she’d been standing as quiet support for Glyn and his whole family, helped him through the death of his child, and no-one had thought how much she herself must be hurting. She, who had loved Glyn’s children as though they were her own.

And as Alex wrapped her arms around the younger woman, Glyn Gibbons hastily excused himself and hurry over to them. “Mair, cariad, are you all right?” he asked solicitously, and Alex let her go and smiled to herself as Glyn took Mair off to a couch and fussed over her.

“That was nice work, Kingston,” said Matt into her ear, and she shivered a bit.

“I did nothing,” Alex protested. “I only pointed out that he does love her and encouraged her to wait for him to recover from Alice’s death. They did the rest.”

Matt turned her to look at him. “Sometimes it takes an outside event to make people see what was there all along, Alex.” His voice was unusually serious as he smiled down at her.

“Yes, sometimes it does.”

“Alex...” His voice had gone hoarse, she noticed. “I... will you stay?”

“Yes, I will.”

He took a deep breath, and offered her his arm.

And then they went home.

 

 


End file.
